


What the Gods want

by Agent Finlay (AgentFinlay)



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Adult Bjorn (Vikings), Animal Sacrifice, Blood Kink, Choking, F/M, Oral Sex, Reader-Insert, Rough Sex, Sex, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:22:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23761507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentFinlay/pseuds/Agent%20Finlay
Summary: Bjorn returns to the shores of England and is greeted in an unexpected way.
Relationships: Bjorn (Vikings)/Original Character(s)
Kudos: 16





	What the Gods want

**Author's Note:**

> Soundtrack: https://open.spotify.com/track/5BPgdqemcwJ5w7SEVvyLrF?si=1BqyVerBSUmWfJA64q9p1w

They had finally made it. Bjorn had held a facade of confidence throughout the crossing but after the storm even his faith that they would arrive on England's shores had waned momentarily. Now the rocky coast greeted them on the horizon and he called for the men to put out the oars and start rowing. He wasn’t sure exactly where they were, this part of the coast was unfamiliar, but he could not deny the familiar smell of the rich earth that awaited them. 

Yrsa had been watching the sea since the storm, the rolling thunder a blaring pronouncement of things to come, the gods ensuring that she would not be taken by surprise. She thanked them for the kindness as she watched men pulling their ships ashore. The sails were tattered and the men were worn but she recognised the raven banner favored by Ragnar Lothbrok. They would be at her door soon enough, she would need to be prepared. 

They approached the solitary cottage with caution, men spread out among the trees as Bjorn and the bulk of his men marched up the path in a show of force. 

“Stop!” He heard a voice shout at them but saw no one, he took another step forward in defiance of the command only to feel an arrow fly past his face, the thud of it striking the shield on his back causing him to flinch away from the sound. “That was a warning, the next will be in your face.” He finally saw the owner of the voice, a small shape perched on the thatched roof, bow drawn as they pressed their body against the stonework chimney. Bjorn’s eyes roamed over the area as he pulled the arrow from the splintered wood, tossing it to the ground in frustration. They could not attack from the front, but the cover the chimney provided also protected the archer from his men in the woods. The cliffside that the house was built into protected their other side and he saw no way to the back from here. He could give the order to burn down the house, he might lose one or two men, but at the moment his curiosity was outweighing his desire to take this place. 

“We only wish to pass inland.” He gestured for his men to stay back before making a show of laying his weapons and shield on the ground and taking another step forward. 

“Are you the leader?” He watched the arrow be let down and tried to see more of the person behind the weapon. In the shadows it was hard to see more than a bundle of furs and a dark shadow under a cloth hood. 

“I am.” Another step forward. 

“You are not Ragnar Lothbrok.” The archer looked past him, searching the faces of the other men. “I saw his banner on your ships.”

“You saw my banner, archer. I am Bjorn Ironside.” She had heard the name whispered in town, he was a legend in his own right. 

“Come closer, northman.” He could tell now that the archer was a woman, her voice soft not that she was not demanding his obedience. He did as she asked, walking forward until he reached the edge of the roof. She slid down the thatch to the edge, peering at him from the shadows of her cloak with a smile. In the light of the setting sun she saw that he was handsome, curiosity filled his bright blue eyes as he looked over her, so much like his father’s. “Ragnarsson. Your beard makes you look like your father but still I took you for a stranger. I am sorry for shooting at you.”

“Do I know you, woman?” He had no recollection of this place, nor of a mad woman who would shoot as though she were ready to fight his entire raiding party on her own. 

“Likely not.” She pushed her hood from her face, revealing a mess of hair that had been kissed by fire and a face that would put Bauldr to shame. “I am Yrsa. It was my father who greeted you and your father before, I was only a child but I remember Ragnar’s stories as we ate together around the hearth. It was a different place then, a different home, but I hope you will find this one just as open to you, Bjorn Ironside.”

“You say we are welcome, and yet you greet us with arrows?” He raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms in mock anger. He vaguely recalled an old viking man living with his wife and daughter on a farmstead, it seemed lifetimes ago but the wife had the same flaming hair. They had indeed offered them only kindness and earned Ragnar’s trust. 

“I greet strangers with caution, but I greet old friends with a warm meal, a dry bed, and a blessing for a successful raid. I would also show you the way to the richest villages come dawn, should my hospitality not be taken advantage of.” He understood the words she wasn’t saying under those that left her mouth. She would offer aid as long as we took no more than she offered, and she was offering what she could. 

“It happens that me and my men are hungry, wet, and in need of a blessing as it was a rough crossing. If what you offer is hospitality, I offer reassurances in return. Any man of mine who steps out of line will be held accountable by me. Personally.” With that, the dance was done, the negotiation for a mutual benefit was successful. 

“There is fresh water in the well, plenty to drink as well as bathe should any wish to do so. If some of your men would be kind enough to help me I can sacrifice two of my cattle, a gift of blood to the gods as well as meat for your bellies.” She stood to her full height before jumping down onto the dirt beside him. At her full height she barely reached his shoulder and remembering the forceful ‘stop’ that had come from such a small thing caused Bjorn to smile as she continued to make demands. She did so politely but he could not deny that they were demands. 

“Is there anything else, you will need my men to help you with?” He smirked. 

“Yes. If you’re men would enjoy something stronger than water I would ask you help bring the casks from the barn loft.” With a wave he set his men to motion, it wasn’t long before the mead was brought down, the fires had been stoked and the men had taken off their armor to bathe and enjoy being on dry land once more. She left Bjorn with his men, following her feet to the stone altar her father had built behind their home. As she had requested some of the northmen were waiting to help guide two of her cattle to their fate, she recognised one of them. 

“Master Floki?” She smiled. “It has been a long time.” He blinked at her a few times, as though trying to focus his vision. 

“You know me?” He leaned forward, looking her in the eye from a mere inch away from her nose. “You know me!” He wrapped his arms around her, lifting her off her feet and spinning them both around before dropping her to the ground again. 

“Yes, I know you. You are a hard man to forget, ship maker. Are you going to help me?” She smiled, patting the nearest cow on it’s soft brow. 

“I would be honored, little Yrsa. Daughter of Svend.” He bowed. “Let us give lives to the gods so that their blood and flesh may bless us in the days to come. They walked the cattle to the stones, each taking a position on either side as the small paddock around them filled with men that had come to witness. She stood shoulder to shoulder with Floki as they drew long blades from the altar between them. 

“Allfather, guide my hand as we give these lives to you. Bless the gifts of their bodies that shall be consumed so the journey ahead may be safe and filled with light. Give them wisdom in times of confusion, Let Thor give them strength in the darkest hours. Let Freya show them the beauty in the lands ahead and allow Loki to keep laughter in their hearts.” They slid the blades along the throats of the animals, blood darkening the light wood between them as the creatures' lives left their bodies and filled the trough. As the animals fell to their knees the men stepped forward. Yrsa dipped her fingers into the warm blood and flicked it onto each man in turn, starting with Floki. “May the gods look upon you with good grace.” He smiled through the speckles of blood across his face, the mad grin of a man who had more faith in the gods than himself. Bjorn was the last, making sure his men were taken care of before stepping up to the altar himself. Unlike the rest who stood before her, he knelt at the trough and gestured for her to do the same beside him. She did. He kept his eyes on her and motioned for the men to take the cattle away to butcher and cook, they would feast tonight in this woman’s house and praise the gods for their favor. He held her gaze as Floki and the rest of his men left them alone in the dark paddock, steam rising from the warm blood in the cooling night air, a storm rolling in from the sea. They listened to the sounds of revelry muffled by the trees and her home, they seemed to be in a different world. 

“Are you going to bless me, or will we sit here all night?” He whispered and she blinked, having been momentarily lost in the illusion of the world closing around them as he held her in his gaze. She dipped her fingers again into the blood, lifting them dripping to flick the blood onto his freshly cleaned face. He grabbed her wrist before she could, bringing her fingers to touch his brow. He closed his eyes and pulled her hand down his face, bloody fingertips leaving streaks of red across his eyelids, cheeks and nose. Her middle finger hung on his bottom lip for a moment before dropping down his chin and resting on his chest as the first rumble of thunder shook the skies. His free hand reached toward the trough, dipping a single finger into the warm crimson before bringing it to her face. He painted a line across her cheeks from ear to ear, watching the blood drip down her skin in it’s own time before painting her lips in the same red. She opened her mouth at his touch, unable to resist the urge to taste the metallic tang he brought to her lips. He obliged her curiosity, pushing his finger onto her tongue as it wrapped around his digit. She undid the laces of his tunic, skin brushing his. She dipped an open palm into the pool before running it down his throat and to his chest, staining the pale tunic at the edges. “What are you doing.” He wasn’t asking her to stop, wasn’t questioning the action as much as the motivation. She shrugged off her cloak revealing nothing but a soft cloth dress beneath the dark heavy layer as he pulled the tunic over his head. She pressed her hands into the blood once more, the sleeves of her dress soaking red up to her wrists before she painted his chest with crimson streaks. Another roll of sound from the skies, this one shaking the very ground they knelt on. 

“I’m giving the gods what they want.” Her hands found the top of his belt and began working at the clasp. “And what I want.” She leaned forward, tasting the blood on his lips soft lips as his hands dug into her braided hair. He found the laces at the front of her dress began to undo them with clumsy rushed fingers but she pushed them away to undo the laces herself. Meeting his eyes she pulled the leather straps from their eyelets one by one, unveiling her ample breasts one inch at a time. As he waited he followed her example, staining his hands red before sliding them up her thighs and over hier hips, taking her skirt with him as he moved. She took the bunched fabric in her stained hands and pulled it over her head, leaving herself bare under his sharp gaze. He cupped his hands into the trough and held them over her shoulders, letting the blood drip between his fingers and onto her skin, rolling through the valley of her breasts to pool in her navel before flowing between her legs. He smeared the dark liquid under his hands as he explored her, feeling every curve from hip to breast before lingering at her nipples, rolling the stiff buds between his calloused fingers. As he took her soft breast into his mouth, the salt of her skin mixed with the bite of metal on his tongue as he felt her pouring blood down his back.  
He pushed forward, catching her as she leaned far enough back to be off balance. His mouth left her breast to find her mouth once more as his hand grabbed the edge of the trough, tipping it to spill the rest of its contents onto the limestone slab beneath them. He laid her on her back in the blood, watching as her hair stuck to the sides of her neck as she writhed in it. He wrapped his hands around her bare ankles, yanking them to either side of his hips as he pulled her closer, his hand dragging through the spilled crimson before his fingers found their way between her thighs. He stroked her folds with a gentleness that contradicted the hunger in his eyes, the sound he evoked from her as she arched her back against the stone erased any coherent thoughts and replaced them with the solitary desire to feel the heat between her legs with more than his fingers. As he undid the front of his breeches she reached forward, scarlet hands painting his throbbing cock as she pulled her to him. He lowered himself between her thighs, arms wrapping under her and wrapping into her hair as she guided him into her. He pushed past her threshold, stretching her with every thrust until his hips ground against hers. He held her close, her chest pressed firmly against his as he moved against her, hot breath tickling her ear as he nipped at her throat. In a quick motion that he was unprepared for she rolled him onto his back, still straddling his hips. He released his embrace as she sat up, pressing his back onto the slick stone beneath him as she rode him. He watched the trails of fresh wet blood layer on her skin as his hands grasped for purchase, fingertips digging into her hips as she moved. Her fingers brushed his chest and down his belly, moving between their bodies to stroke the bundle of nerves there. He felt her muscles clench in response to her own touch and it spurred him on. A hand wandered to her breast and she took it in hers, grabbing him by the wrist as she guided his palm to her throat. He raised an eyebrow in surprise before tightening his grasp until he felt her pulse thrumming beneath his fingers. Lightning cracked above them, seering the sky with light as thunder tore from the sky so close that they could feel the very sound in the air. Her fingernails bit into his arm as the ragged gasps of pleasure squeezed past his grip, her body contracted around him as she came on his cock. He let go of her throat, letting her catch her breath as he held her hips and moved her on top of him. Soft moans of pleasure escaped her lips as she rode out her orgasm with him still hard inside her. 

“Was that for you or the gods?” Bjorn grinned up at her, his thumb finding the nub she had abandoned and applying a gentle pressure until her breath started to catch. 

“Can the gods not share in my pleasure?” She exhaled, drawing the sigil of thor’s hammer in the blood on his stomach. “Or can they only share yours?” She lifted herself off of him, crawling back to stroke him before taking him into her mouth. Her tongue searched his flesh, the taste of his skin, the blood, her own wetness, a pleasant mix as she slid him past her lips. He grabbed her by her hair, pulling her face to his. 

“They will take what they like...and so will I.” He turned her away from him, bending her over the altar’s empty reservoir and parting her knees to spread her before him. He pushed inside her in one rough thrust before pulling her back to his chest by the back of her neck, his other hand wrapped around her front to grind against her clit as he hammered into her, the sound of his flesh smacking hers barely audible of her cries. She gripped the edge of the trough, her knuckles turning white as she met every thrust with equal fervor. More thunder and lightning rolled above them, a continuous cacophony of light and sound as she screamed under his touch. “I’m going to cum inside you, this will be my blessing to you. A chance to bear the grandchild of Ragnar Lothbrok.” He growled through gritted teeth, trying to hold his release for a little longer, enjoying the power he had over her. 

“No.” She managed between ragged breaths. 

“No?” His hand left her neck to grab her hair, wrenching her head to face him. “No?” He asked again, not bothering to stop fucking her long enough to get the answer. 

“If I am blessed, it will be to carry the child of Bjorn Ironside.” She panted, a wicked grin crossing her face. “Now, are you going to cum me, or will we fuck here all night?” He smiled, recognizing the phrasing he’d used earlier this evening. What had been her response? Ah, yes.

“I am giving the gods what they want.” He let go of her, pushing her forward until her breasts were pressed into the blood stained wood of the trough, her forehead resting on the edge between her white-knuckled hands. She could hear her own cries echoing back to her in the shallow curved bowl between the thunder crashing above them. She felt the first twitches of his release as he thrust against the place inside that made her legs shake and she came with him this time, the roar of the storm drowning out any sounds that might have escaped them. When they were finished he stayed inside her, rocking his hips slowly as though unwilling to be done despite his softening cock.  
He jumped when the first cold drop of rain landed on his shoulder and the downpour quickly followed, washing the blood off them both in clean rivulets. They watched each other come clean, as though seeing the clean naked skin for the first time. The sound of men shouting cut through the storm from the other side of the house, his men. She got to her feet, wrapping herself in only her cloak as she stood. 

“Where are you going?” She looked back at him, droplets of rain gathering on his brow and running down the length of his torso. He was beautiful and she would remember how he looked now when she thought back on this moment in the lonely nights to come. 

“I promised you and your men dry beds.” She gestured around them. “If that is still to happen I should let them inside.” 

“They will be fine in the barns with the mead.” He reassured her as he pulled on his pants. “And I am sure they have already helped themselves to your food.”

“So my duties are fulfilled?” She smiled smugly. 

“No.” He closed the short distance between them. “I’m starving.”

“I’m sure your men have left meat for you.” She looked up at him as she spoke, he stood so close that she had to crane her neck to see his face. 

“Hmmm.” It was a sound of agreement but his hands were on the clasp of her cloak. “I will see what food is left, make sure they are all dry and settled and then...I will expect to be let inside your home to find a warm bed.”

“Is my barn not good enough for you, Bjorn Ironside?” His lips found hers, warm under the fresh layer of rain that slicked his skin. 

“I will get us food and drink. All I ask in return…” His fingers undid her cloak and he pulled it from her shoulders. “Is that you let me inside.”


End file.
